


Comfort Zones

by sonata_de_morte



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Outdoor Sex, eighth year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:07:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonata_de_morte/pseuds/sonata_de_morte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Harry wants to know is why Pansy Parkinson seems to be the only one who understands what he needs when he can't understand her at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort Zones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This is for Kitty because I have boarded her ship, and I am making myself at home. I'm marking it as complete for now, but it will most likely turn into a chapter fic. Special thanks to policeprivate for gushing with me about the pairing and helping me not turn Pansy into Draco.

Harry sighed for what had to be the hundredth time since this whole mess had begun. _He_ understood that this was a party thrown in honor of the first anniversary of the end of the war, but everyone else in attendance seemed to think that it was a party for him. From the moment he had stepped into the Great Hall that evening, he had been swarmed with well-wishers and people who just wanted to thank him or touch him or look at him. The castle had been opened that night to anyone who wanted to celebrate, and it was all a bit much for him, so Harry had escaped when the food started coming out, slipping out of the doors to walk out onto the grounds.

The sky was just darkening, and the air was warm and sweet smelling as Harry wandered away from the castle, making him sigh with relief to be away from so many people who all seemed to have been looking at him. He didn’t think he would ever get used to crowds, especially not crowds of people who all seemed to have expectations.

“Hiding from your own party, Potter?”

He turned at the voice and raised his eyebrows at the sight of Pansy Parkinson standing near the edge of the lake.

“It’s not my party,” he said back, voice sharp. Most of the Slytherins who had come back for their eighth year (and there weren’t many) kept to themselves. Malfoy was unsurprisingly absent, and it seemed like Parkinson was a bit lost without her best friend. Harry hadn’t spoken to her since the war had ended, and he didn’t really want to talk to her now.

“Of course it is,” she replied, flicking longer than usual black hair over her shoulder. “It’s about the end of the war. You ended the war, didn’t you?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “No, Parkinson. I didn’t. I…I killed Voldemort, yeah, but it’s not like I was the only one there. Other people helped.”

She sneered. “I know that. Believe me; I’m in no hurry to worship at your feet. But you’re you. It’s easier to just call you the hero and be done with it.”

“And you know all about doing the easy thing, don’t you?” Harry snapped at her, and it came out with more bite than he’d intended since it was more an observation than an accusation.

 “I was wondering when you’d bring that up.” Parkinson’s eyes were intent in the semi-darkness. “Look, I’m not saying that I did the right thing, but I’m not sorry that I suggested we hand you over to the Dark Lord, Potter. He was going to-”

Harry raised a hand, cutting her off. “It’s fine. I get why you did it. Save your own skin and all that.” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “That was always his goal, you know. To turn us all against each other. He knew that we were stronger than him if we all stood together.”  
  
“And luckily for him, Slytherins are all about self-preservation,” Parkinson returned. “But it all worked out in the end, I suppose. Hence the party, which brings us back full circle.”

Harry made a face at her. “It’s not supposed to be all about me, though. People _died_. We should be honoring them instead of talking about putting up statues of me or whatever the fuck they’re on about in there.”

Parkinson stared at him for a moment and then burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her hand. “Sorry, Potter,” she said. “But it’s just…are you always this serious? Don’t you ever…I don’t know. Let loose? Have fun? Do something no one expects you to?”

The true answer to that was no. Harry rarely did the things he wanted to do, mostly because he had no idea what those things were. Even though the war was over now, it still felt like he was living it sometimes, and other times he didn’t know what to do with the hole the end of it all had left in his life. People all seemed to be moving on and living their lives, and Harry felt well and truly mired in his past.

“You know what you need?” Parkinson was asking, and Harry blinked and then focused on her.

“What?”

“To do something insane. Something that you would never ordinarily do. Trust me, it will jolt you right out of your doldrums and make you see the possibilities around you.”

He didn’t make a habit of taking advice from Slytherins, but he had to admit that she had something of a point. Harry opened his mouth to ask her what she suggested, but she was moving and then her lips were pressed to his before he could get any of the words out. His eyes flew open wide and he jerked back.

Harry hadn’t kissed many girls. Two, in fact, in his eighteen years of life. Cho, which had been a disaster, and Ginny, who had come to him soon after the beginning of the school year and told him that she wanted to go back to being friends.

But there was something…almost exciting about the way he had felt when Parkinson had kissed him, and he realized that she was right. It wasn’t something he would have ordinarily done, and he didn’t have anything to lose.

“Is Malfoy going to come try to hex my bits off?” he asked, needing to be sure.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why everyone thinks Draco and I are shagging. We aren’t and never have been. I haven’t even seen him in-” Harry cut her off by pulling her close and kissing her firmly.

He was gratified by the slight intake of breath he got from her, and then her arms were around his neck and she was taking control of the kiss, sliding her tongue along the seam of his lips and then pressing it into his mouth when he parted them.

She kissed like she acted. Bold and confident with just a hint of something sly and underhanded that he wanted to suss out. It was unlike anything Harry had ever experienced, and soon enough his tongue was moving with hers. He could feel her chuckle into his mouth and it made him feel bolder, too. This was supposed to be about doing new things; things he didn’t usually do. Usually he was shy and bumbling when it came to women and things like this, and he didn’t have much experience at all aside from what he’d done with Ginny over the summer, but he let his hands slide down her back, resting right above the slight swell of her arse.

Parkinson pulled back, lips red and eyes bright. “And what do you think you’re doing, Potter?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Er…seeing the possibilities?” Harry asked.

She smirked. “Don’t see them. Seize them.” Her words were punctuated by her pressing her hips forward and rubbing against him.

Well. That was a clear enough message for him. Harry slid his hands down over her arse, noting that she wasn’t wearing robes over her uniform. He could easily reach under her skirt and…his cheeks flamed.

“Come on, Potter,” she said, her voice low and husky. “You’re doing well so far. Do what you want. Do something for _you._ ”

Something he wanted…

At the moment he wanted to work off some frustration. Harry let out a breath and then pushed her back against the tree they were standing near, smiling when her eyes widened. He was running on pure instinct now, letting his wants take over and giving his brain a break. His fingers went to her shirt, and the fact that she wasn’t wearing her jumper or tie made it easier.

Harry looked his fill as he undid her buttons, his eyes widening at the lacy black bra that she wore under the shirt.

Parkinson smiled and giggled, seeing the look on his face. “A lady must always be prepared, Potter,” she said.

Ginny had never worn things like that, preferring plainer bras and knickers that didn’t make her uncomfortable, but it was clear that Ginny and Parkinson were very different types of girl.

He hesitated because it seemed… _wrong_ somehow to just touch her like that, but the skin he could see above the lacy black cups was creamy and pale, and he couldn’t help himself. Harry touched her, cupping her breasts and sliding his thumbs over that soft skin, letting out a soft exhalation of awe.

He had never seen anything like it.

“You know, they look even better without the bra. Feel better, too,” Parkinson whispered, and her voice was low and throaty, and Harry was compelled. He swallowed hard and pulled down the fabric, revealing the mounds of her breasts and the pert little nipples that sat dusky and perfect in the middle.

Harry’s heart was pounding with the thrill of this. They were outside, alone in the twilight as the rest of the school and most of Wizarding Britain celebrated in the castle.

Parkinson was wearing one of those little smirks that always seemed to lurk in the corners of the mouth of every Slytherin that Harry knew. She seemed unaffected by what they were doing, and that wasn’t good enough for Harry.

He bit his lip and then pinched her nipples, leaning down to kiss her warm skin before releasing her nipples and taking one in his mouth.

The sharp inhale was a start, but Harry wanted more. He got the feeling that Pansy Parkinson wasn’t the type to want it gentle. She probably wasn’t new to this, and Harry wasn’t about to let his inexperience get in the way.

He bit down on the hardening bud, letting his tongue lave away the sting of it before bringing his hand up to tease her other nipple.

Parkinson was moaning, and she buried her fingers in his hair, holding his head to her breast. “Well, well,” she said, and she sounded slightly breathless. “It seems you do know a thing or two.”

“More than that,” Harry said, shaking off her hands and pulling off of her nipple with a wet pop.

“Oh, really?” There was a challenging look in those dark eyes, and she put her hands on Harry’s chest, pushing him away and then turned around so that her hands were braced against the tree and her arse was pushed out towards him. “Let’s see what you can do, then.”

Merlin. Nothing had ever been presented to him like this before, and Harry was unsure of what to do with it. _You’re thinking too much again, Potter,_ he scolded himself. He was supposed to be doing what he wanted.

So he flipped up her skirt and was unsurprised to find that her knickers matched her bra. Harry gave in and touched them, chewing on his lip as he slid a finger along the crack of her arse and down the lacy fabric until he reached the heat of her sex. Her small reactions were betrayed here by the wetness that had begun to soak into the lace.

“I think you’re enjoying this,” he said softly.

She snorted. “I like being touched, Potter. It doesn’t mean that you’re special.”

Harry furrowed his brow and concentrated, rubbing his fingers along her slit and pressing until he found her clit, dragging the lace against it with his finger.

“Mmm. Not special, but not bad,” Parkinson amended, and Harry thought that might be good enough. Almost praise from a Slytherin, actually. “But I might get bored if you don’t hurry up and actually _do_ something.”

Harry rolled his eyes. He pulled her knickers down until they were around her knees, done with being slow and exploratory. With demanding hands he pushed her legs open wider and pressed down on her back, encouraging her to stick her arse out more. Giving into a whim, he slapped her pert backside, wishing he could see if he’d left a print behind.

Parkinson made an interested noise, though, so he was counting that as a win, and he did it again, before letting his fingers dip into her wetness to tease her a bit more.

His cock was filling rapidly and had been since he’d seen her breasts. He was an eighteen year old boy, after all, and it didn’t take much. Now his erection was pressing against the front of his pants and trousers, wanting to slide into that silky wetness.

He undid his zipper and pushed his bottoms down enough to free his cock, moaning at the feel of his own hand wrapping around it.

Parkinson turned her head to see, and she smiled. “Impressive,” she declared, and Harry felt a stab of pride. “Now let’s see what you can do with it.” She turned her head back and moved her hips in an enticing circle.

Harry quickly did the spells for lubrication and protection and then grabbed her hip with one hand. He let out a slow breath and used his free hand to guide his erection to her wet heat, groaning as he pushed into her.

She was tight, but welcoming, and he had to breathe for a moment before he could move again, afraid that he was going to come right then and there because it felt so good. He’d only done it a handful of times, but Harry had decided that he really did like sex. He liked giving pleasure almost as much as he liked receiving it, so the noises that Parkinson was making as he seated himself inside of her just added to the experience.

“Move, Potter,” she ordered. “Right fucking now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry muttered under his breath, but he used his grip on her hips for leverage as he pulled out and then thrust back in hard, delighting in the noise she made. So he did it again and again, snapping his hips forward and setting a hard and fast pace.

Night fell around them, but Harry kept moving, pounding into her and groaning his pleasure as he got closer.

“Don’t you dare…come inside of me, Potter,” Parkinson panted. “You haven’t earned that.”

Harry breathed hard, determined to make her come before he did. “Alright, alright,” he said, his pace becoming erratic as pleasure curled deep in his belly.

“Fuck,” she moaned, and then she was tightening around him and shaking slightly as she came on his cock, a muffled cry slipping past her lips.

It only took a few more strokes inside of her before Harry was pulling out and fisting his cock, coming all over his hand. Pleasure and satisfaction licked along the edges of his consciousness, and he swayed on the spot before he got a hold of himself.

When he looked at her, Parkinson was setting her appearance to rights, but he saw her hesitate before stepping out of her knickers.

Harry pulled his pants and trousers back up and spelled away the mess, turning to look at her properly. “I…that was…” Now that his brain was kicking back in, he had no idea what to say to her.

She just shook her head and pressed a finger over his lips. “Don’t over think it, Potter. You’ll give yourself a headache. Did you enjoy it?”

He nodded.

“Did it make you feel better?”

He nodded again.

“Then it was a success. And we both got off, so even more of a success.” She stepped back and pushed the lacy garment into his pocket. “Just in case you need a reminder.”

“I…what happens now?” Harry had to ask, a bit stunned that they’d done that at all.

Parkinson rolled her eyes. “Now we go back to our lives, Potter. You go back to your party, and I’ll go back to pretending like you don’t exist.”

“But-”

She shook her head and pointed to the castle. “Go.”

Harry sighed, but turned to do as she said, well aware that trying to get a stubborn Slytherin to relent was about as futile as…well, trying to get a stubborn Gryffindor to relent. But he looked over his shoulder at her for a moment, squinting through the darkness to watch her as she stood there, his mind racing as he thought of the many possibilities ahead of him.


End file.
